


In the settling dust

by WeirdTea



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Harry Potter, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Past Harry x Ginny, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-31 12:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21446548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeirdTea/pseuds/WeirdTea
Summary: "The war's over Malfoy, and if we don't stop fighting among ourselves there's just going to be another one"Potter and Malfoy both return to Hogwarts for a final year in search of normalcy that the war took from them. They find that's not the only thing they have in common despite coming from opposite sides of the divide. Slow burn. The Hinny ship sinking is given all due gravitas - much to the angst of all involved (especially Draco)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	In the settling dust

The battle was over. The war was won. Victory to the good guys. It’s just a shame Draco wasn’t one of them. The wizarding world was celebrating but to him it just felt like the world was ending. His world was ending. The downside of all your friends being Slytherins, when the going gets tough it’s everyone for themselves. Every one of his classmates that didn’t have death eaters in their immediate family was clambering to show their allegiance to the winning side, leaving those less fortunate behind in the dust. Not that Draco could blame them. His ancestors had survived doing just that every time they found themselves on the losing side. Loyalty was not a virtue he was taught to prize.

And besides, he was dead weight to his friends anyway. Damned three times over. There wasn’t just one Death Eater in his immediate family, there were three, and one of them was _him_. His father had been carted off to Azkaban almost as soon as it was over, since he’d already been sentenced there before the break out so there really wasn’t much to discuss. Draco on the other hand was a complication. Legally underage when he got his Dark Mark there was a chance if he was remorseful this could all go away. Or at least that’s what his mother kept telling him. His good strong mother, the Malfoy matriarch who’d had more sense than the whole damned family and had never officially declared for one side or the other.

She was however still under suspicion. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about with him. Draco pulled his robe harshly over his head and threw it to the floor, grabbing the blue one he’d already discarded. What exactly was the best colour for looking remorseful? Black for mourning? Or would that just remind them of Death Eater robes and his black, black soul? White was too obvious and he didn’t own any white robes anyway. So now he’s pondering the myriad moral connotations of the colour wheel with less than an hour before their appointment at the ministry. An appointment he may not walk away from a free man.

Draco ran his hand along the skin of his inner left arm cautiously. When he’d first been branded with the mark his father and aunt Bellatrix had both imposed upon him the importance of not touching it lightly for it was his connection to the Dark Lord and was not to be taken for granted. The other Death Eaters seemed to believe touching it at all, even with your hand, gave Him a direct line into your mind, altering him of your location. If that was true Draco grimaced at the thought of what his aunt Bella might have gotten up to while deliberately touching her mark. As far as he could tell it was only when touched by a wand that the mark did anything other than just sit there identifying him as evil. It burned when the Dark Lord wanted to summon you, and his father had told him how his had faded almost entirely before returning with vengeance with the Dark Lord’s return. Now he was dead the mark had seemingly faded entirely, but unlike before where it had presumably still been there just hidden, it’s complete removal had left a rather incriminating scar. As if the mark had been burned off of him. _Wonder what scar-head Potter would say to that_.

The noise of his mother on the stairs snapped Draco out of this thoughts, and he quickly pulled on the formal purple robes his mother had given him for Christmas last year that’d he’d never worn. The fit wasn’t bad and purple was a neutral colour he reasoned. And in far, far to short an amount of time for Draco’s liking they were standing outside the chamber his trial was to be held in. It was an odd place to wait. He knew there were trials happening all day, all week actually, so while they waited some other death eater or person under suspicion was sitting in there exactly as he was about to. Most of the accused had been held before their trial and would be entering from the other side of the court room, in chains. Draco was one of the lucky ones deemed unlikely to flee and thus had been allowed to go home and wait for his day in court there with his mother. If the person facing trail before him was exonerated then they would leave the same way Draco would enter, they would pass them on their way out. If not, then they would be escorted back to Azkaban out the other door and Draco would likely never know whose fate was decided directly before his own. It was a chilling thought.

He started listing all the possible defendants mentally to distract from the wait. He knew the Carrow siblings had already been sentenced; it had been in the papers. He knew from Pansy, who had also been given a court date several days after his own, that Brutus Crabbe hadn’t been tried yet as there was some discussion about holding off Vincent’s memorial until after, on the off chance his father could actually attend. Unlikely, given what even just Draco knew of the man’s activities during the war, but apparently his wife was in full blown denial. His mother’s uncle Doran Rosier was one of the earliest known Death Eaters, his son Evan choosing death over capture at the end of the last war, had been sentenced to life in Azkaban pretty early on. His aunt Bellatrix’s husband and brother in law had both been returned to Azkaban without trial under their previous sentence along with Draco’s father. The Lee’s and the Snyde’s were all dead. Mr Goyle had been sentenced two weeks back he was pretty sure. Who was left? Dolohov? MacNair? Rowle? Draco wasn’t sure.

It felt like everyone his family had ever associated with was being put on trial. Like the people who had populated his parents world, who were the foundations of their sense of power and security, were being stripped away and leaving them defenseless. The thought dawned on him that his parents entire social circle were killers. He’d never thought of it that way before. Never, not even when he’d been old enough to understand that those who had avoided Azkaban weren’t actually innocent; they were just liars. And now he was among them. Draco felt like he was about to hurl. He had never killed anyone, but he had come close, and he’d tortured people on Voldermort’s orders. He’d spent months plotting to get Death Eaters, dangerous murderers criminals, into his school. And even if he hadn’t killed the headmaster himself he let them in.

When his name was called his mother held him close and gave him this hopeful determined look he couldn’t return. He just couldn’t see how the Wizengamot could find him innocent when even he didn’t believe he was. As he stepped into the huge room his whole body shook. He couldn’t do this, he just couldn’t. But he couldn’t run either. There was a chair in the centre with chains on the armrests. Draco sat carefully on it, keeping his hand clasped in his lap. He’d arrived here of his own volition, not in chains, he would not be chained. Or that’s what he repeated over and over to himself as the chains clinked threateningly at him. There were benches rising high along each wall packed to the brim. He’d wonder at such a packed room for just him but then of course the whole Wizengamot had been assembled for all the day’s trials, not just his own. He resisted fidgeting with great difficulty, no need to make himself look even _more _guilty.

Those assembled were a sea of plum-coloured robes, with very few exceptions. One that caught his eye just as the Chief Warlock started speaking was a man with silvery blonde hair who was taking notes frantically. He was dressed in putrid azure robes and bore a striking resemblance to Looney Lovegood from school. Hogwarts felt worlds away. A different life. One he’d help destroy. Next to the man, dressed in darker robes and not as noticeable at first, to Draco’s great surprise, was none other than Harry Potter. The Boy Who Freaking Lived. Good old Scar-head himself. This was not good news. They had been rivals since pretty much the day they had met and Draco was reasonably sure he threatened to kill him at some point during the final battle. However Potter had then saved him from the Fiendfyre so, who knows what that means.

Draco had already submitted a written statement to the ministry prior to the trial, after much re-drafting with his mother to get it right, which they had all apparently read. However the Chief Warlock still gave them a brief refresher. Draco reasoned with so many trials they all must blend into one at this point. That didn’t bode well for him. From the Chief Warlock’s mouth his carefully chosen words rang false and hollow to his ears. This trial was his chance, his _last_ chance, to make his appeal in person and for any witnesses to come forward and add their own testimony. There was plenty of witnesses to Draco’s crimes, and none who could really defend him, so he hadn’t called any. His age alone was his defense. A defense that had seemed a lot stronger before entering the court room. He couldn’t focus on what was being said and he felt vaguely like the room was tilting alarmingly, although no one else seemed to notice.

He knew he should stop staring at Potter but in the sea of plum Potter was the only thing that really grounded him. When Potter finally looked back at him curiously Draco forced his eyes away. And then all too soon it was time for him to stand and say his peace. He’d rehearsed something, he really had, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember one word of it so instead he just pushed on on instinct alone.

“I’ve made a mistakes. I grew up surrounded by Death Eaters. They were my father’s friends. They were people who had got away with it. It was what I thought was normal. So I wanted to grow up and be like them. I _know_ I should have known better. I _know_ meeting other people from different backgrounds at school should have taught me better. But I didn’t socialise with those people. They weren’tinmyhouse and I knewmyfamilywouldn’tapprove and I wantedtomakemyfatherproudofme so I spent my time with the children of my parents’ – of my _father’s_ friends. We were the same. We came from the same background. We reaffirmed each other’s believes. We were wrong. But I didn’t know that then. And when the Dark Lord came back, my father was a Death Eater again. It wasn’t just something from his past it was his present and he had to act like a Death Eater. And he made mistakes. And the Dark Lord wanted to punish him for that. I didn’t see it at the time. I thought it was an honour, to join the ranks so young. But I knew my mother was terrified for me. And my father was gone and my only hope of getting him back was to be a good little Death Eater. So I tried to be. And the best thing I can say for myself now is that I failed. I was a terrible death eater. I messed up all the time. Ididn’twanttokillDumbledore. I just wanted to keep my mother _safe_. She never joined. She never wanted this for me. Or for father. We were – we were just trying to keep each other safe”

His mouth was dry, and he couldn’t think what else he had to say for himself, so he just nodded vaguely at nothing and carefully sat back down. Grateful to now longer require his shaking legs for balance and support. He hadn’t exactly been articulate. And Draco felt rather like he’d word vomited more than he’d spoken. But he’s said what he felt. He’d said the truth. And if that got him sent to Azkaban then he probably deserved it. He just hoped his mother would be alright. She’d been reaching out to her other sister recently, the one that had been disinherited for marrying a muggle-born. She seemed kinder than Bellatrix, although that wasn’t exactly hard, and more forgiving. Perhaps she’d look after his mother after Draco was gone. He stared at his hands and willed them to stop shaking. There was dead silence in the court room. They were presumably processing what he’d said and deciding if it varied from his previous testimony at all. Then, slowly, there was a building sound of shuffling. It sounded almost like the sea. They were getting ready to give verdict. But then when the Chief Warlock spoke it wasn’t what Draco was expecting.

“Mr Potter, have you anything to add to your character reference?” Draco’s head shot up. Potter had given him a character reference? Saying what? That he was a horrible prick who’d bullied him and his friends for all the years he’d known them? But when he looked at Potter he didn’t look accusatory as he stood. More like he was in deep thought. “I’d like to add something in response to what he’s said, if that’s all right?” The Chief Warlock nodded solemnly. Potter seemed to be pointedly looking anywhere but at Draco as he spoke. “It’s clear that Malfoy’s actions were motivated by love for his family. The same motivation I assume his mother had when saving me. And all I really wanted to say was… my mother died to save me, and I think she probably would have done a lot of other stuff out of love for me too. And she’s remembered as a hero. Fighting for your family, for those you love is a good thing, and the only difference here seems to be the side his family, his loved ones, happened to be on. It’s not his motivations that are at fault, just what side of the war he was born on.” Looking rather like he’d said too much he sat down awkwardly. The man Draco assumed to be Looney’s father turned to smile at Potter reassuringly.

Draco couldn’t believe his ears. Potter had _defended_ him. Compared him to his own mother. And what was that about _his_ mother saving Potter? She hadn’t mentioned _that_. There was a lot of muttering as they all debated. Then finally the Chief Warlock raised a hand for silence. Draco held his breath without even meaning to. His mother was waiting outside. Would he see her again? Or would he be taken away I chains. He suddenly wished he’d hugged her tighter before entering. Said a proper goodbye. Told her he loved her. _Anything more_.

“It seems to be that this young man has endured a great deal of darkness and despite his own best efforts never truly became a dark wizard – despite his environment. Mistakes were made there is no doubt, but he is young. I propose we show leniency in this matter. All in agreement?” Hands went up across the room. Definitely not all of them, but certainly more than half. Draco supposed numbly that having The Chosen One on your side was quite the stamp of approval. One he’d definitely not expected. The Chief Warlock nodded before continuing. “I also move that following Mr Potter’s suggestion this court should not take proceedings any further in regard to Mrs Malfoy. All in agreement?”. More hands, more hands for his mother than for him. _She was safe_.

Draco sought Potter’s eyes as the final verdict was declared. Why had he done this? Why had he saved them? “I declare Draco Lucius Malfoy pardoned with a warning, and Narcissa Cartomandua Malfoy cleared of all charges.” Potter was staring back at him, his expression unreadable. Bright green eyes boring into his. Draco nodded slowly at him, and Potter nodded in return. And then Draco was up and out of the court room and into his mother’s waiting arms. He didn’t know what the future held for them yet, but he had a future, and that thought alone was enough to fill him with hope like he’d never felt before.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So I hope you enjoyed that. I have been planning this fic for ages, I have it all mapped out down to the chapter titles, so I'm very exited to finally be writing it and sharing it with you all. I can't promise super regular updates because I don't want to lie to you lovely readers but I will say that this was written as part of my project The Year of Glorious Fanfiction - which means I'm writing at least 2 paragraphs of fanfiction every day for a year. Now I won't be writing for this fic every day but the odd of me writing it are greatly increased but just writing more so hopefully you aren't waiting too long between updates.
> 
> Any comments and kudos would be wonderful!


End file.
